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Author Topic: Dry Dock  (Read 4417 times)

Christine

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Dry Dock
« on: May 20, 2016, 12:48:20 AM »
I enter a shop and there are round racks full of women's blouses.

I am a passenger sitting in the middle of the back seat in a car.  The driver and the front seat passenger are both dark figures.  In the front windshield I see huge rolling dark grey storm clouds.  They roll away and the night sky, first turns red, the universe and thousands of stars open up and against a dark blue sky.

We come to what looks like a dry dock.  Huge dull beige, sand colored, old ships sitting everywhere..no water...wooden docs on either side...on the bottom of what would have been the sea bed...long coiled thick ropes tied to the ships.  The coiled rope looks solidified.  It looks like a scene from the past...like a ghostly vision.

On the right I see dark olive green long sleeved work overalls walking toward the ships.  Maybe 5.  They are walking away from me...they look like men's work overalls...but without the men in them.

The words that come to mind are stuck and invisible (the men).

Tony Crisp

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #1 on: May 20, 2016, 01:29:34 PM »
Chris – Are you looking at how you want to present yourself – your self-image?

But the dream shows you carried along through your life by partly unconscious urges or driving attitudes. Which leads to you experiencing and realising that you are a part of the cosmos.

The dry dock might indicate that illness at some time made it necessary to be ‘laid up’ for changes being made. Circumstances meant that perhaps you could not be actively involved in life, causing delays in what you wanted to do.

Invisible working forces led to you feeling stuck.

Tony

Christine

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #2 on: May 21, 2016, 03:55:54 AM »
I certainly felt like I could not have what I wanted and that the other people, 5 in my family of origin, interfered with the image I had of myself and the one wanted to present.  I will have to see if that association with the dream changes.

Also, an interesting dream from last week.  An unseen hand pushes a square box towards me and flips open the top.  It was not locked and looks like the sort of box an expensive compass might contain.  The hand lifts one heavy drinking or bar glass out of the box.  It is recycled green glass, has an oval embossed on the front. Possibly an animal embossed in the middle of the oval.  The hand is just holding it.  It is funny as I remember nothing about the hand from the dream...seeing it...or any of its characteristics.   Maybe there was no hand in the dream, but the box and the glass moved as if there was.

Last night a small dark black child figure looking at a black line or rope or snake on the white ground, starting at her.  This could tie into the first sentence, or run on sentence, above.  I am pretty sure it does.

Tony Crisp

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #3 on: May 23, 2016, 08:42:49 AM »
Chris – The box may represent things you hold inside you that have just been revealed.

But the held glass is oviously something offered or revealed, but I wonder what you associate with it.

Tony

Christine

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #4 on: May 26, 2016, 01:05:50 AM »
The square dark box made me think of a black box recorder, the one searchers look for after a plane crashes, to explain what went wrong.

The glass is less clear to me.  It is beautiful.  The color of sea glass.  And heavy like a whiskey glass, but I do not drink.  Maybe I should.  Just kidding.

I think of it as for me to put something in.

I also found on Urban Dictionary "To love someone for who they are and not what they have.  Otherwise known as true love.  Coined by the play "Thoroughly Modern Millie."  Millie says "I found myself a green glass love."
« Last Edit: May 26, 2016, 06:01:20 AM by Christine »

Tony Crisp

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #5 on: May 26, 2016, 09:04:46 AM »
Chris – So, can you explain in words what went wrong? Perhaps do it in a way that has help in it for you to heal.

‘Putting something in’. What amazing words. I see it as the opposite of taking things out. So what will you put into the green grass – your life?

Tony

Christine

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #6 on: May 30, 2016, 08:39:23 AM »
When I first saw the glass it looked like something you would put milk in.  But when it was picked up, it was quite heavy, like a whiskey glass.

Last night I think I had a related dream.  I was in my parents house.  I was light grey in color and the house was dark grey inside.  A black figure came in the dining room and sat at a telephone table in the room.  He looked at me and said "Your mother is a drunk.  The police."

In my left hand I was holding a double walled aluminum cup I use in real life.  It had purple liquid in it.  I took a sip and it did not taste like anything.  I told him "It is soda."

I do not drink alcohol or soda. 

Tony Crisp

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #7 on: May 31, 2016, 09:42:49 AM »
Chris – The dream returns to the influence within you of your parents or your years of your upbringing in the house. Interestingly it is grey and not black or dark.

But black reappears again with the black figure. I don’t know whether he is stirring up mud or just saying that what you got from your mother should not be taken as her truth, because alcohol is a consciousness shifter.

Soda is alkaline so might suggest neutralizing acid in some way – purple; deep purple suggests an as yet unexplored or known dimension of experience. This links in some dreams with serenity and peace. Purple is also the colour of a bruise, and in some dreams can either indicate hurts you feel, or sexual passion.

Tony

Christine

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #8 on: June 04, 2016, 08:34:18 AM »
Thank you Tony, especially about the comment about alcohol changing consciousness and not taking what someone says who might be drunk as truth.  My mother did have a problem with alcohol sometimes, but so did my Dad.  My role in the family probably had more to do with my mother's drinking than my father, which I had not considered before.  She would say and do terrible things, black out, and not remember it.

It was interesting that the figure said "your mother" and not "my wife" as if it was my responsibility.  My father also told me that "women are on earth to serve men." I "policed" my mother and my siblings, in a way, for my father...not realizing until I was in my 30's that he was always cheating on my mother and in my 40's that he was an alcoholic. My father blamed everything on her.  I think I internalized that...why bother speaking up when they will blame me anyway?

I think I am having the dream now as I am in a similar situation with my housemate and am having to really separate and say no from her initiating any dependency or blame on me.

Recent dream images have included me being a giant and falling into a puddle of black water, a black snake almost bit my heart, but I lifted up right elbow, very muscular arm, and flung it away.  I was thrilled, isn't that silly?, to see a human colored elbow as most of the time when I see a person or body they are grey, white or black.

Another dream image of a mandala, flesh colored, bright yellow and bright green.

Another of a bright yellow sun and a Christian cross laid on top.  The sun's edges had teeth, like on an award ribbon.  The image was so bright it was almost blinding.

Feeling strong.
« Last Edit: June 04, 2016, 08:36:47 AM by Christine »

Tony Crisp

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #9 on: June 05, 2016, 01:29:19 PM »
Chris – I send these comments, not to you, but simply as information. They were not written by me, but are a synthesis of successful therapeutic understanding. But like all ‘facts’ they are useful but should not be taken as the end of wisdom

“Even more disturbing, these emotions out of the past have not simply lain dormant in the museum of the mind, as we prefer to assume. Time and time again, in insidious or flagrant ways, they have broken out of the case of memory and run amuck in the orderly corridors of maturity. The hate the patient feels for his employer, although tidily rationalized, is perhaps a leftover of his hate for father. His wife begins to look like a rather flimsily disguised substitute for mother. He projects the personalities of brothers and sisters to his children. His mind, which seemed a museum of fossilized memories, turns out in fact to be a natural history zoo. The beleaguered patient, staring horrified into the mirror of self-consciousness, sees no more the self-satisfied smirk of the habitual self, but a time-split evolutionary madhouse of squalling infant, doting child, ravening animal—he is all of these and all of these affect his daily behavior.

It becomes clear that the way to change behavior is to change the squalling infant and the doting child and the ravening animal that were never admitted. It is not the accepted parts of personality that snarl up existence; it is the unaccepted ones lurking in the darkness of the subconscious, bound to the past, to primitive understanding, to a limbo of covert urges and nightmare fears.

Having publicized the transformative value of inner rituals, those fantasies which so often borrow content from the ritual and myth of primitive and ancient societies. They suggest that these rituals, noticeably lacking in modern civilization, are possibly necessary in the psychic development of an individual from one stage of maturation to the next. If this is so, their appearance in sessions may facilitate a necessary readjustment of the mental dynamics of the patient at the symbolic level, just as anaclytic therapy does at a more primitive, “gestural” level. (anaclytic - of or related to relationships that are characterized by the strong dependence of one person on another).

His ego, which before he had seen as the master of his mind, now seemed a helpless jellyfish, caught in the grasp of mysterious forces beyond its control or understanding. The symbol is not as outlandish as it may seem; under the therapeutic thought content does not come in words, but in pulsing waves that seem to wash over and inundate the field of consciousness with steady, increasingly powerful surges. Before this evidence the conscious illusion of control becomes a joke. The ego may repress, defend itself as best it can, but inevitably the great slow tides, by coloring assumption and interpretation, will accomplish their movement, or, in ego terms, their purpose. Hostility will out, self-destruction will out. The libido will have its way. And it seems that only by recognizing these forces can we begin even slightly to control and modify them.

In some such way the parents and all the decisive figures in a person’s childhood are built into his psyche. At a certain level of progress in psychedelic therapy, when this awareness dawns, a patient begins to speak of “my father—who is me” and “my mother—who is me,” and then many connections, impenetrable before, suddenly explain themselves. Finally, the patient begins to see that all these images, apparently external to himself, are really manifestations of his own psychic substance, on which they were imprinted. They were created by the involuntary loan of fusion which occurred from infancy through childhood. And he learns that changing the structure of the conscious identity is insufficient to produce a complete change in his behavior. He must change his greater subconscious self as well, and that implies calling home those psychic loans made in childhood, which have become encapsulated into seemingly external identities.

He learns to enjoy without shame the mystic mother in his wife and his mother, to move joyously into the sexual relation, to love fully and deeply one moment, hate furiously the next, to be proud of his masculinity and to call up his feminine side when the occasion demands. He can argue and analyse his problems rationally one moment and then throw himself into the depths of emotion and intuition in another, all with minimal guilt and inner conflict.

One patient looked back at her domineering neurotic mother and for an instant she saw her surrounded by all her flaws and all her virtues. And for the first time she found forgiveness and understanding for the flaws and gratitude for the virtues. Her mother was not a goddess, not even a very good mother, but she was the woman who had borne and nourished her. Without denying the pain she had suffered at her mother’s hands, the patient could now say, “Yes, that woman is really my mother, and I am really her daughter.” And in accepting this reality which neither she nor anyone else could change, she discovered an almost mystical joy. Then she looked at her incompetent, rather befuddled father and thought, “This is my father; I shall never have another,” and again the radiant warmth and gratitude surrounded her. For the first time, her psyche, done with its wandering to the far lands of illusion and denial, had come home to accept the real terms of its existence, and had found peace in them.

In the end patients relieve their guilt by admitting that before most of life’s catastrophes they were utterly helpless. They learn a curious catechism of resignation whose every line begins, “I could not help it that - and every word is both a gruelling admission of helplessness and a singing relief from years of hidden self-accusation. Once this is accepted, patients see in the children they were the vulnerable beauty that children really possess. They cry for the broken dolls, the harsh words and forgotten promises, and for the pettiness of their lives. And from their tears of self-pity springs a sweet relief, for in the wreck of life, real sorrow is one of the sweetest remedies we know, far better than the stunned paralysis that most of us suffer.

As the wounds slowly heal, patients gaze on the awkward shy children they were. They admit, “Yes, this was really me,” and for the first time, it seems, they take themselves to themselves. For the first time they are whole. They have forgiven themselves for being real.”

Tony
« Last Edit: June 07, 2016, 08:08:20 AM by Tony Crisp »

Christine

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #10 on: June 06, 2016, 11:37:05 AM »
Thank you very much Tony for taking the time to send me this.  It certainly resonates with where I am right now.  A real person and not someone's object or objectification in a role, someone who has a right to a will, choices and a voice of her own.

Do you mind sharing the source?

Tony Crisp

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #11 on: June 07, 2016, 08:02:00 AM »
Yes - I don't mind. I have quoted bits in various place on dreamhawk.com - it is LSD Psychotherapy: An Exploration of Psychedelic and Psycholytic Therapy by W V Caldwell - https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_17?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=lsd+psychotherapy+caldwell&sprefix=LSD+Psychotherapy%2Caps%2C344&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Alsd+psychotherapy+caldwell

The author toured Europe and the US gathering information about therapeutic approaches and results. His book is an excellent summary - but he must have been educated in old school science for he says about paranormal subjects there is no proof. Stanislav Grof through his own enormous experience gathered many obvious 'proofs'.

Grof's book is worth reading - https://www.amazon.com/Realms-Human-Unconscious-Observations-Research/dp/0285648829/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1465717882&sr=1-1&keywords=Realms+of+The+Human+Unconscious+Grof - and also a must https://www.amazon.com/Holographic-Universe-Michael-Talbot/dp/0060922583/ref=sr_1_53?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1465717646&sr=1-53&keywords=S+Grof

Tony
« Last Edit: June 12, 2016, 08:51:09 AM by Tony Crisp »

Christine

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Re: Dry Dock
« Reply #12 on: June 07, 2016, 03:47:01 PM »
Thank you Tony.  The author definitely writes like he is old school.  I have heard some wonderful things about the results of micro-dosing with LSD and this will be the first that I have read about it.